


Take It Off

by allouette



Category: The Voice RPF
Genre: M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-09
Updated: 2012-12-09
Packaged: 2017-11-20 18:12:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/588251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allouette/pseuds/allouette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam is wearing that shirt almost every other day like he doesn't own a closet full of more suitable replacements that don't make him look homeless, and Blake wants to rip it off of him like…</p><p>And that thought right there is what takes it from being something stupid into a full-blown <i>thing</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take It Off

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Sandra for the beta!

It's something very stupid, in the beginning. Just another thing to use as ammunition for a joke, another thing that Blake doesn't really understand about his friend, doesn't understand in general. Every time he sees it, all he can do is shake his head and think, 'what the hell?' because seriously. What the hell? Adam probably paid more for that shirt than Blake paid for everything covering his entire body, and every article of Blake's clothing is in one piece. He can tolerate the jeans with the small holes, but just barely, and only if he's never told the price, but that _shirt_. That ridiculous t-shirt with its many rips and holes that appears more than off-white, how it looks like it's just longing to be thrown in the trash, turned into the perfect rag for car washing - that shirt is beyond Blake's comprehension. 

And maybe that's why the more he sees Adam wear it, the more he finds himself thinking about it.

He learns early on that Adam kind of goes through phases where he'll wear certain things for a while, stop for whatever reason, then pick them up again some time later like they're a long lost friend. Blake thinks perhaps the shirt finally bit the dust when he doesn't see it for about a month, but then he goes for a while without seeing Adam, either. Then all of a sudden they are back in each other's lives and Adam is wearing that shirt almost every other day like he doesn't own a closet full of more suitable replacements that don't make him look homeless, and Blake wants to rip it off of him like…

And that thought right there is what takes it from being something stupid into a full-blown _thing_.

It becomes the kind of thing that makes Blake drink just a little bit more, that swirls around in his head and keeps him up at night, that invades his dreams when he does manage to sleep. He won't let himself call it an obsession, even though it really has to be one with how much he catches himself thinking about it, the number of ways he has envisioned himself getting rid of that thing, shredding it to pieces. The satisfaction he feels doing it. How he gets off on it.

It has to be an obsession, completely unhealthy, because when Adam strolls in wearing the stupid thing for the third day that week, Blake literally feels like he's going to snap. It has finally reached the point where he just can't take it anymore; he's out of jokes now, he's wound up tight, and he really just wants to _do something_ about it; he wants it _gone_. 

When he and Adam cross paths in a rare moment between rehearsals, Blake realizes that this is his perfect chance. He takes a quick glance around before he snags Adam by the wrist and pulls him aside, his jaw clenched for a moment as his eyes lock on that small patch of skin showing through the hole in the neck of Adam's shirt. He hates it so much, but he also wants to get his hands on it, his mouth on it, god, how is it possible for something to drive him so batshit crazy?

"What's up, dude?" Adam asks, amused by being physically accosted by Blake in the hall as he heads out for a coffee break.

"Are you doin' somethin' later?" is the question Blake finally bites out, and Adam knows by the look on his face, how intense his eyes are, what he's really asking.

"I wasn't, but I am now. My place or yours?"

"You can come to mine."

"Cool. I'll see you there when everything wraps up here. Later, cowboy," Adam says with a wink, and it's so completely ridiculous that he can pull that shit off and walk away with some kind of swagger. If anyone else tried it, they would look and sound so stupid; it pisses Blake off and turns him on at the same time, frustration level inching up just a notch higher.

Something is getting ruined tonight, that's for damn sure.

The next few hours are going to crawl by, Blake just knows it, but he's a professional and he will focus on his team, goddamn it. And that is exactly what he does because they are working their asses off here and they deserve his undivided attention. They blow him away, each and every one of them, and he's already so proud; saying goodbye to two of them is going to suck because he's at the point right now where he can't imagine losing any of them. He loves this gig and getting to help these kids, but he gets so attached by the time they go live, can't really help it because that's just how he is, and he hates having to lose them. He wouldn't change it for anything, though, unless it meant sending everyone else's teams home and keeping everyone on his.

When Blake finally gets home, he's itching for a drink and that's the first thing he does after throwing his keys onto the table. There's a bottle of Bacardi with his name on it, and once he has mixed himself a tall glass, he slips off his boots and uses his phone as a distraction while he waits for Adam to show up. It isn't until he has emptied one glass and is three fourths of the way through another when there's finally a knock on the front door. He quickly downs the rest of the booze in one large gulp, then he's on his feet and answering the door. Adam stands on the other side with a smile, sunglasses on even though it's mostly dark outside, and the icing on the cake - that shirt. 

"Let me guess," Adam says as he steps inside, Blake closing the door behind him. "You started drinking without me?"

"Obviously," Blake replies, and then he's invading Adam's personal space like he belongs there, three fingers hooking in the hole at the neck of Adam's shirt, two more in the hole high up on the right side. 

Adam takes his glasses off a second before Blake's mouth comes crashing down against his own, and he can taste the rum on Blake's lips, even more so on his tongue when it explores through his mouth. He's good and distracted by the time he wraps his arms up around Blake's neck, matching every slow step Blake takes toward the living room as Blake kisses him again and again, big hands on his hips steering him toward the couch.

"What, I don't get a drink?" Adam asks when he breaks away to suck in a much needed breath.

"Do you really want one?" Blake asks back as he unbuckles Adam's belt, diving back in for another kiss before Adam can even answer.

He's got the belt off, Adam's pants unbuttoned and unzipped when the kiss falls apart again. Adam's breath is warm against Blake's mouth when he asks, "what the hell has gotten into you?" his fingers working on the row of buttons on the front of Blake's shirt.

"Nothin'," Blake answers. "You."

"Well, I can't really argue with that," Adam say with a smirk and pulls Blake into another kiss, deep and long and so hungry because Blake takes over control immediately, and christ, Adam knows he likes to kiss, but this is taking fierce to a whole new level. 

Blake's hands slowly slide up along the front of Adam's shirt, hooking his fingers in the biggest of the holes again, holding on for a moment, then he swallows Adam's gasp when suddenly his shirt is ripping. Because Blake takes full advantage of the fact that Adam is totally preoccupied with Blake's mouth, sucking on his tongue, and he grips the thin cotton in his fingers and pulls hard, the shirt coming apart all too easily in his hands. It's shredded by the time Blake is done and Adam breaks the kiss, slightly dazed and a little confused.

"What, what the hell, man?"

Blake's hands find overly warm skin under the ruins of Adam's shirt, and he nuzzles behind Adam's ear, bites a kiss to his jaw. "I'm not sorry."

"Dude! You just--"

Adam's weak attempts at pulling away end with him sprawled out on the couch, Blake bracing himself on one knee as he tugs Adam's jeans down. He presses his mouth to Adam's stomach through the strips of his shirt, inhales the sharp scent of his soap, deodorant, the musk that is uniquely Adam. 

"You don't know how long I've been thinkin' about doin' that," Blake murmurs before he's sucking a mark just above Adam's navel.

"You killed my shirt," Adam says, his fingers tangling in Blake's hair, kicking his jeans the rest of the way off.

"It was dead when you bought the damn thing."

"Blake!"

"Shut up."

Adam doesn't say anything after that, not because Blake told him to shut up but for the simple fact that Blake is yanking his boxer briefs down and off, and then there's a mouth on his dick, and who needs words, anyway? It always blows Adam's mind when Blake does this because it doesn't happen as often as Adam would like, but he doesn't press the issue, knows it's pretty damn special when he gets it from him. And Blake knows it, too.

Blake knows there's something about the way his hands feel when they hold Adam's hips down that drives Adam crazy. Knows that when he eases up just a little and gives Adam enough room to rock up into his mouth just so, he has to fight keep control. And when Blake really lets go, moves a hand up to Adam's stomach and feels his muscles flutter under his touch, looking up at Adam's face with eyes that say _yes, do it_ , he knows how Adam breaks, how difficult it is to fuck his mouth until he's almost gagging and not push for more. Blake gives him everything he can, lets Adam take and take and _take_ until he's thrusting up one last time and coming down the back of Blake's throat.

Blake is slow to ease back, releasing Adam's cock with a soft, wet 'pop'. He licks his lips and wipes his mouth with his hand, wishing more than anything he had a glass of something to drink right at that moment. He feels Adam tug at his shirt, and he lets himself be pulled right into another kiss, this one warm, slow and deep, his tongue sweeping through Adam's mouth so he can get a taste of himself. He moves to stretch out over Adam on the couch, bracing himself on his forearms.

"Mm, what do you want?" Adam asks against Blake's mouth, his hands starting to work on getting Blake's jeans open. "Do you wanna fuck me?"

Blake can only groan softly as one of Adam's hands slides inside his jeans, fingers wrapping around his cock. He's so painfully hard, has been since Adam walked in the front door, and god, Adam is still wearing what's left of that ridiculous shirt. He would laugh if he didn't have a hand stroking his dick.

"Not much else is gonna happen if you keep doin' that," he manages to say, jerking into Adam's touch and it's a little awkward with his pants still on.

Adam grins faintly, that blissed out look still on his face, and he uses his free hand to shove Blake's jeans and underwear down a little more out of the way. "I'm okay with that, for now. I know you're good for more than one if you're not completely hammered," he says, leaning up to press his mouth to Blake's again, his hand moving freely now, using precome leaking from the tip to ease the way. 

Blake moans into the kiss, his hips starting to rock in an easy rhythm with Adam's hand as he jerks him off. The kiss falls apart with a gasp and Blake drags his mouth across Adam's neck, wanting to suck, to bite down, but he doesn't; they don't leave visible marks, something they agreed to when they started this because it just seemed to make sense at the time. He presses a kiss to Adam's pulse point instead, tastes the salt under his tongue, letting out another groan as Adam's thumb sweeps over the head of his cock.

“Fuck, Adam…” he pants out, face pressed into the curve of Adam’s neck. He's so close, he can almost taste it, feels it building at the base of his spine. One of his hands comes up, curling in one of the thin strips of Adam's shirt, gripping it in sweaty fingers. He feels like he's been punched in the gut when his orgasm finally hits him, spilling over Adam's fingers and stealing his breath away; he doesn't even hear the shirt ripping even more past the roaring in his ears.

When Blake's composure has mostly returned, he snorts out a laugh when he uncurls his fingers to find a fist full of Adam's shirt. Or what's left of it, anyway. 

"If you didn't suck my spine out through my dick, I'd totally hate you for this," Adam says, but his attempt at bitching is a complete failure due to said previous orgasm. There's a small, lazy smile on his face, and he drags his fingers through the sweaty hair curling around Blake's ear.

Pulling his pants up enough to prop himself up on his knees, Blake tears off another piece of Adam's shirt to clean the spunk from his stomach and chest, just because he can now. "Still not sorry," he replies, finally pulling the rest of the - he can't even call it a shirt anymore - off over Adam's head because it's just starting to look dumb and Blake's finding it hard to not laugh anymore.

"Do you even know how much I--"

"Never sleepin' with you again if you finish that sentence!"

"Touché," Adam smiles, pressing a lingering kiss to Blake's lips before he slithers out from between him and the couch. Blake watches him strut his naked ass to the liquor cabinet, disappearing into the kitchen for a few moments before he's back and fixing them both a drink. 

Blake sits back on the couch, gladly accepting the glass that’s handed to him, his eyes never leaving Adam for a second as he takes a generous drink. He savors the slight burn as he swallows, gulping down a little more before he’s setting the glass aside for the moment. Adam takes that as his cue to sink down onto Blake’s lap, straddling his thighs. Large hands slide down along Adam’s sides to settle on bare hips, pulling him closer and Blake leans in, trailing his mouth across Adam’s shoulder, scratching beard burn along the way. There’s such a stark contrast to Blake now than the way he was when Adam first arrived; this slow slide of his mouth on Adam’s skin compared to Adam feeling like he was being devoured, Blake’s hands traveling over his body in a smooth caress, his touch almost feather-light at times instead of bruising. It makes a shiver run down Adam’s spine, and he slips his hands under Blake’s open shirt, snakes an arm around his neck as his fingers slide through damp curls.

“You’re so weird tonight,” Adam starts to say. “Why were you—“ And then it dawns on him, just like that, with the manhandling and the ripping and the way Blake just _looked_ at him earlier. “Oh my god, did my shirt drive you _that_ crazy? Seriously?”

Blake’s forehead hits Adam’s shoulder as he huffs out a laugh, and Adam thinks he might be blushing a little when he pulls back enough to look at him, Blake’s cheeks flushed slightly, blue eyes shining bright. “I couldn’t help it. You get under my skin, I can’t control the specifics.”

That comment makes Adam grin, leaning in to press a kiss to Blake’s mouth. “Feeling’s pretty mutual, you enormous weirdo,” Adam mumbles, then he’s kissing Blake again, not caring that his lips already feel bruised and abused. 

Long arms wrap around Adam’s body and pull him closer, and if it wasn’t for the back of the couch, his legs could be wrapping around Blake’s waist easily. The denim fabric of Blake’s jeans is not exactly what he wants to be feeling right now, and it stops him from squirming in Blake’s lap. A few moments later, Blake is scraping his teeth over Adam’s lower lip, murmuring against his mouth. “Round two?”

“Fuck yes. Upstairs, bed. You have too many clothes on.”

“You gotta get up first,” Blake says, even though he hasn’t making much of an effort to let go of Adam, hands still covering as much naked skin as he can.

“Since you ruined my shirt, I think you should carry me.”

Blake laughs, the kind that says, _haha fuck you very much_. “I am not carryin’ your ass all the way upstairs,” he says, and it’s really too easy to move Adam enough on his own that he can stand up.

“Ugh, fine, be an asshole,” Adam bitches back, hooking his fingers in the back of Blake’s jeans as he follows him toward the stairs. “So hey, maybe I should go out and buy another one of those shirts tomorrow.”

“No, maybe you shouldn’t.”

“You wouldn’t jump me again?”

“Adam.”

“I’m serious, your reaction to a shirt was too fucking intense. Would it happen again if I got another one? Maybe I should buy four or five and just keep them on hand to surprise you with them.”

“Adam!”

Adam’s cackling by the time he jumps on Blake’s back, arms and legs wrapping around him, holding on as Blake makes it to the top of the stairs. His mouth is right next to Blake’s ear when he speaks, voice pitched low for full effect. “Told you you were carrying me. Payback’s gonna be a bitch. Hope you’re up for it, cowboy.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have to state for the record that I started writing this weeks ago before they started talking about Adam's shirt in the confessional videos on the show, just because I think it's as stupid as Blake does and it drives me absolutely crazy. It only took me so long to finish because, you know, I suck. Also, the fact that the shirt has been missing as of late leads me to believe that _something_ has happened to it and I cannot say I miss it.


End file.
